


Unlucky Number 27

by SleepyKalena



Series: For Club and Country [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: (added in chapter 2), (but not the Suarez way), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Failed attempts at picking up women, Fanart, Football | Soccer, Humor, Pro Tip: Don't try to hit on Jyn, Sarcasm, She bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-06-17 10:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15459684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyKalena/pseuds/SleepyKalena
Summary: What's a man to do when he sees a cute woman he'd never seen before, sitting a few seats away from him at his favorite local pub, watching his favorite sport at the start of the weekend?He hits on her, of course.There's no way this could go wrong.[Fic in chapter 1, Fanart in chapter 2]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NewLeeland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewLeeland/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Lee! Sorry I'm incredibly late.
> 
>  ~~There's a drawing that comes with this, but my wrists hurt, so I'll update this later.~~  
>  Update: Fanart included in chapter 2!

This week sucked.

It'd been a long day at work, too- the nagging was nonstop, lunch had been a waste because the wave of angry phone calls ran through his lunch hour, and the meat he used for his miserable excuse for a sandwich went bad (something he learned the hard way when he tried to wolf it down, only to throw it back up).

Luckily for him, it was Friday, and past five o'clock. For once, the train was running smoothly (a miracle, really), and his favorite pub was just 3 stops away.

He checked his watch: 06:02.

Kickoff had already happened, but he wasn't going to let this setback ruin his mood. It was the weekend, his favorite football team was playing, and he needed to let off steam. He _deserved_ it.

The pub wasn't quite packed just yet, but it was already filled with some regulars he sees whenever he went in- Rowdy Russ was back in his corner booth with a pint in hand, already yelling epitaphs at TV, which showed the referee holding up a yellow card (though, in the ref's defense, it _was_ the right call, based on the instant replay). Petey was already getting a pitcher for his mates, stationing himself at the same trio of high tables clustered together.

But then there was someone new sitting at the pub, at the center of the bar table, nursing a quiet pint of her own. Her hair was in a bun- the prim and practical type, he gathered- but it was loosened just slightly, reminding him to loosen his own tie as he walked up to take a spot a few seats away from her. The bartender was quick to serve up his usual frosty pint of beer, and he sipped at the foam in satisfaction.

He decided to watch her out of the corner of his eye through most of the match as he continued to sip slowly at his beer. She would sit up straight whenever the ball was close to hitting the back of the net, and she’d fling her arms up at an easily contestable call from the referee. She seemed cute, too; strands of loose hair framed her face and curled slightly under her chin, and her nose was distinct and pointed upwards. Her mouth hung open just slightly, and she appeared completely enraptured by the television up on the wall. She was wearing a football jersey, though oddly enough it wasn't even of the team that was playing tonight. He recognized the shade of faded navy and the gold stripes down the side: she was a fan of the Yavin Rogues. They weren’t the best team in the league, but they were scrappy.

Still, you’d think she’d cheer for Sith City FC or the Millennium Squadron. Their red kits were pretty attractive, after all.

It wasn’t until halfway through the second half that he decided to engage in conversation.

Most Yavin Rogues fans- Rogue Ones, they called themselves- were spirited but humble. Perhaps she’d be the same way.

“Strange for a Rogue One to be watching another game with other teams playing,” he mentioned as casually as possible without making it sound like a pickup line. He even made sure to lean against the bar nonchalantly, and kept a distance from her that was neither too close so as to make her uncomfortable, nor so far away that he had to raise his voice at her.

She glanced at him and her smirk was both disarming as it was charming. “A girl can’t just like football in general?”

Heat rushed to his face at his mistake. But no, it was the weekend- he could play it off. “Just making sure you actually did.”

She rolled her eyes before returning her gaze to the match.

Well, that was a muck-up. Perhaps some normal football conversation would work. “Wait,” he started, moving closer by a couple of seats, making sure to keep an empty one between them in case the situation really started to take a turn for the worse. “So why are you watching a Sith City match when the Rogues aren’t even playing tonight?”

“What, are _you_ a Sith City fan?” The words spat out like acid and she shot him a look that made a chill run straight down his spine. The woman could kill enemies with those eyes, a bewitching green flame unto themselves, and he realized he had to tread carefully with his next words. She was cute, but _hot damn_ was she protective of her favorite team.

He smiled and waved at the bartender, who served up another pint for him in no time flat, and gestured coolly to the screen- Lando Calrissian paced the backline, shouting at his teammates to keep their eyes on their marks. “Real Cloud City,” he answered.

Her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Ah, a Bespin man, are you?” Her expression warmed, the green flames shrinking and turning into candlelight, and his chest felt weightless and bubbly. She hummed. “Alright, I’ll accept that.”

He chuckled. “You’ve really got a thing against Sith City, haven’t you?”

She scoffed. “After that ankle stop that Krennic did to Melshi, the red card and fine was _not_ enough. He wasn’t even given additional suspensions, and yet _Rook_ got suspended 3 games for pushing Gullet after he tried several times to _bite_ him?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s fucking bullshit, I tell you- Sith City has the league in their pockets.”

He appreciated her fervor. She clearly loved her team, and she fully let herself get knee-deep in the politics of the league. Gullet himself was a rather slithery player for Club Partisans, and Bodhi Rook was one of the calmer, quieter players for the Yavin Rogues. He remembered that push pretty well, come to think.

“Yeah,” he nodded, sympathizing with her. “Shame that Rook got a suspension for what was clearly self-defense. This isn’t the World Cup or anything- no one needs to be biting anyone.”

It earned him a chuckle from her. It was a wide, slightly crooked grin that showcased the quirkiness of her bunny-like teeth.

“In fairness, football is a difficult sport and the stakes are high,” he opined, hoping to reel her in just a bit more in the conversation.

“It is,” she acknowledged with a nod. “Sometimes when I play the pressure gets pretty intense.”

“You play?” he asked, amused.

She hummed. “Every week with my team.”

“That’s pretty cool,” he said, being careful to use the word _cool_ instead of _cute_. “Playing with other women must be nice- the aggression is so much higher with men, but it’s that burliness that makes the men way more interesting to watch.”

She chuckled airily. “You’re right, men can be so _aggressive_ with each other. It’s a shame we focus on the actual sport more often than the men, right? What a bore. No wonder no one watches us play.”

So she was witty, too.

He found himself enamored with her charm and snark as well as her looks. It was quite the package, actually- not a lot of females were openly into football as it is. She spoke unabashedly, had a good sense of wit and humor, and seemed as though she was exactly in touch with what she liked, what she wanted.

Perhaps it was a chance for him to take this terrible week and turn it into a great one.

Perhaps, if he charmed her enough, she could want _him_.

She licked her lips in a way that made his mind wander, and he decided that it was worth a shot.

Shoving away the fantasy of what her lips could do to him, he considered his next move. “So. Yavin Rogues. Why them?”

She shrugged nonchalantly and took another drink. “They’re scrappy. They’ve got heart. Plus the guys aren’t half-bad.”

“Not half-bad, or not half-bad _looking_?” He teased, leaning a little closer to her.

Her head tilted and she batted her eyelashes, and there was a glint in her eyes that told him she was on to his game. He held his breath a bit, hoping that maybe she’d take the bait.

She seemed to, because she leaned a little closer to him in return. “I’ll let you decide,” she said rather teasingly, and continued to watch the match.

Feeling emboldened, he scooted a little closer to her. “I bet I could be better,” he offered with a playful smirk.

That caused her to take pause and turn to look at him again. Her eyes scanned his- up, then down, and again, twice over- and she tilted her head curiously, taking the sight of him in, _assessing him_ , and she smiled sweetly.

“Nah, I doubt it,” she said simply, and turned back to the game.

 _Uh...what? “Doubt it”?_ he thought. He leaned even closer this time, and dipped his head a bit lower to get to her level. “Doubt it, how?”

The way she hummed in contemplation made it clear that she was playing with him. It didn’t matter- if she was going to play hard to get, then he was ready to step up to the plate. It would make the victory more satisfying, after all, and he liked a good challenge.

“I guess you’re an alright sort of lad, but you’re not my type.” Her voice remained light and airy, dangling in the air like a prize for him to grab. It was just within his reach.

“Why not?” he asked. “I mean, I’m no footballer, but surely I’m a decent-looking man.”

“Sure, I guess,” she responded, not bothering to turn to look at him this time, “But I only date 10s.”

So she was ranking him.

 _Seriously? She wants to date a 10? How shallow of her, wanting to date “perfect men”,_ he thought, but woe befall him if he ever thought to say the words aloud.

 _Not like she’s a 10 herself_ , he continued to think.

But perhaps she’s just trying to take his confidence down a few pegs on purpose. It’s a pick-up technique, after all- act like you’re interested, but turn around and neg them so that they come seeking your approval. Having tried this on other women himself, he knew what sorts of cards she had up her sleeve. It didn’t escape his notice that the bun in her hair was but a sign of her need for things to be under her control. She may want it, but he wasn’t going to concede it. He planned to wipe that confident smirk off her face and take her down when she least expects it. He’ll have her wanting him by the end of the night- this much he was sure of.

“Alright, fair enough,” he half-heartedly conceded. “So what does that make me?”

She looked at him one more time- eyes scanning up and down, scrutinizing all over again- and said with utmost certainty: “A 27.”

It took a hot second for him to process what he just heard. “A 27…” he repeated slowly.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded innocently, still looking completely sure of her response.

“You only date 10s, and you think I’m a 27,” he said, still slowly, wanting to make sure he didn’t lose her in the logic.

“Yup.” She took a sip and looked back at the game.

“27. Which is a larger number than 10.”

“That’s correct,” she chimed.

“I’m a 27, which is better than a 10, and yet you still don’t think I’m worth a shot?” he asked, now indignant. “The things we could do tonight, and you wanna pass on this?”

“Again, you’re not my type.”

He fought to stop himself from raising his voice at the absurdity of it all. “And what, pray tell, _is_ your type?”

Rather than answer him, she turned to flag down the bartender to close out her tab, and as she did so, the referee at the TV whistled for 3 minutes of stoppage time.

He bit the inside of his cheek. He waited too long to hit on her after all- not only was she playing hard to get, but it was clear that she intended to leave when the match was over, based on the fact that she had already given the bartender her credit card. And watching that was odd in itself- she seemed really friendly with him, making small talk as he pulled out the receipt paper from the printing machine with his broad hands. Even stranger yet, he _never_ warms up to strangers, but here he was, making chit-chat right back at her. He’d never seen her at this bar before ( _his_ bar), and yet she made herself at home.

Just who the hell _was_ she?

He had to know. He never failed to pick up girls like her. Why was she playing _this_ hard to get? Women like her were pretty, but personalities as strong as that gave her limited options. And yet, why-

“For starters,” she finally said, turning back to him as she put her credit card back in her wallet. “You never asked me for my name.”

He gawked.

She looked up at him sweetly, fluttering her long eyelashes, and it dawned on him that this whole charade was a saccharin trap made to screw with his confidence.

“W-why should that matter,” he stammered. “Have you seen yourself? You’re only good-looking enough for a one-night stand; what’s the point in knowing each other’s names?”

The woman grinned, flashing her teeth, but they appeared less like adorable bunny teeth and more like fangs at this point. Another chill ran down his spine, but he’d be lying to himself if he also wasn’t just a little bit aroused by how quickly she turned the tables on him. This level of power and confidence she had in herself was terrifyingly sexy, especially coming from someone so petite, but the thought was overshadowed by his immense need to come out on top.

If he was going to lose to someone like her, he’d better know the reason why.

“If you knew my name from the start you’d’ve thought twice about your entire approach from the second you walked in the bar.”

He heard the familiar jingle of the bar door opening, and he saw the bartender grunt welcomingly at the new arrival.

“Sorry, love, you didn’t get bored waiting, did you?” the new arrival, a man, asked.

As the woman in front of her beamed and stepped past him, he watched her make her way towards the man at the door and it suddenly dawned on him what she meant when she said she only dated 10s.

Looking at her back, he belatedly noticed the Yavin Rogue kit she was wearing sported a number 10, followed by Andor’s name written across the top. And as the man embraced her, his eyes trailed upwards to find...

Cassian Andor- player number 10, captain of the Yavin Rogues, voted MVP in the previous season and long-time fan favorite of the Rogue Ones- arms wrapping around the woman he’d worked so hard to try (and fail) to win over.

She looked as though she were walking on clouds, unable to stop smiling at the sight of him as she kissed the tip of his nose. “Not at all, I was too busy messing around with this guy,” she said, gesturing to him with her thumb.

Captain Andor looked at him briefly before looking back at the woman incredulously. “Jyn, you need to stop playing with people like that- people can have fragile egos,” he chided.

 _Jyn?_ _Where have I heard that name?_

He nearly wanted to shoot himself in the foot when he finally remembered who she was.

“You mean to tell me you’re-?” he started, jaw dropping ever so slowly.

“Who, me?” she asked with feigned innocence. “Jyn Erso, you mean?”

“O-of Sporting Club Stardust? Winners of the Scarif Cup and MVP of the women’s league?”

“Two years running,” Jyn said proudly, straightening her back. But when his jaw stayed dropped and his stuttering remained uncontained, she dropped her shoulders and smiled wryly. “But of course, you’ve only heard of me because I’m connected to Cassian, right?”

Not only had he tried to hit on a famous footballer, but he hit on one that had such a pedigree that the football crowd had long since dubbed the two of them the “power couple” of the sport, rivaled only by the nation's other leading favorites: Han Solo and Leia Organa. These two- Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor- were both number 10s, captain of their teams, and continually made headlines as an unstoppable force. They achieved result after result, their values skyrocketing over the years due to their charisma and individual successes.

And here he was, trying to neg her into a one-night stand.

Who the hell was he kidding?

Above him, he heard the referee give the final whistle. He looked up at the screen: Real Cloud City had finished the game with an embarrassing 0 - 4 loss to Sith City FC.

“Rather embarrassing result for Cloud City,” the commentator said as the exhausted players trundled off the pitch and into the locker room. “They had every advantage to win, considering Sotorus Ramda, number 27, got a red card. Unlucky for the Sith City reserve player, as he was sent off the field not 4 minutes after being subbed in! More analysis in the post-game show, after the break.”

He turned back to face Jyn and Cassian, but the door swung shut and they’d long since left.

“Unlucky for you, lad,” he heard the bartender say, and he turned back to look at him. The bartender’s thick hair matched his width and his gruff voice as he said, “You have to watch out for people like her, you know.” He was smirking, the first the man had ever seen since he started frequenting the pub, and the bartender shook his head knowingly. “Sometimes they just like to screw with people for the hell of it, and she’s certainly one of them.”

The bartender then placed the bar tab in a glass and slowly pushed it towards him. “But at least you gave Little Sister here a good time while she waited for Andor to show up, so that second pint is on the house, yeah?”

The man could only sigh with resignation.

It was official: this week sucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, Jyn and Cassian, each cheering their partner on in their matches!
> 
> **_Cross-posted on[tumblr](https://sleepykalena.tumblr.com/post/182419635803/back-in-august-i-drew-a-soccer-modern-au-version), [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/468163), and [twitter](https://twitter.com/sleepykalena/status/1090528807885262848)._ **
> 
> **Bonus:** Jyn Erso's playing card photo **_(Cross-posted on[tumblr](https://sleepykalena.tumblr.com/post/176583493628/rebelcaptain-modernsoccer-au-unlucky-number-27))_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some stats:
> 
>  **#10 - Jyn Erso**  
>  \- Captain of Sporting Club Stardust  
> \- Silent but deadly champion of the Scarif Cup  
> \- MVP of the Galaxy Premier League (Women's Division)  
> \- Does not take kindly to scrubs  
>  _"We'll take the next chance. And the next, and the next, on and on until we're the ones lifting the cup."_
> 
>  **#10 - Cassian Andor**  
>  \- Captain of the Yavin Rogues  
> \- Swift and calculating champion of the Hoth Cup  
> \- MVP of the Galaxy Premier League (Men's Division)  
> \- The only member of his team to not rip his shirt off when celebrating a goal (he's a bit camera-shy)  
>  _"Make eleven men feel like eleven-hundred."_


End file.
